The Girl and The Ghost
by dimensioner
Summary: Oneshot. A young girls decides to explore the opera house while Carlotta sings, and happens upon the Opera Ghost. Inspired by my goddaughter...


_Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, but that's no reason not to play around with the characters a bit...Thanks to my ever faithful beta Luthien Saralonde! And thanks to Timeflies for having a look at it before posting!  
_

„Papa, I need to go to the toilet!" Helena said, rising from the chair in their box.

"Yes, yes, go," her father replied, not once taking his eyes of the stage, where La Carlotta had just started with the first aria of the evening.

Sensing that her father was unwilling to accompany her, the little girl left silently, and once outside, tried to find the toilets on her own. Inwardly, she was glad to have escaped. She liked opera in general, but this woman on stage had a terrible voice. It reminded her of the sound stray cats made in spring.

Walking down the corridor, she tried to remember where the toilets where situated. She remembered having seen women disappear down the stairs to another floor, so she chose to try her luck downstairs.

After only minutes she finally found what she had been looking for, and when she was done, she decided to not go back to her father's box immediately. She could still hear the prima donna's shrill voice through the closed doors. Ever since they had moved here from the country after her mother's death, her father had been terribly infatuated with Carlotta Giudicelli, sending her gifts and flowers after almost every gala night.

Helena only hoped that they would not marry for she already did not see much of her father as it was. Ever since her motner had died, he had had trouble looking at her, if only for the fact that she was a spitting image of her mother. He had almost shoved her in the hands of her governess after the funeral, and the nights at the opera were one of the few moments they spent together.

Normally, her governess would accompany them, taking care of her whilst her father enjoyed the opera and tried to get a meeting with the star singer afterwards. But tonight, her governess had fallen ill, and she had persuaded her father to take her with him alone, promising him that she would behave. Her father had reluctantly agreed.

And now she was wandering the opera house alone, while her father admired the soprano from box 18.

Strolling around aimlessly, she was content to have the place to herself. She adored this building, but there were always so many grownups around. Now she had the time to inspect the grand staircase and the foyer more closely without being disturbed.

It really was beautiful; the mirrors in the Grand Foyer were giving the impression that the room was much bigger than it actually was. Papa had once told her that Garnier, the architect, had been inspired by the Palace of Versailles, which she had never seen herself. It really was an impressive construction. She especially liked all the little cherubim and nymphs that adorned the walls in a larger part of the building.

Taking a closer look, she noticed that a string instrument she had never seen before appeared as a recurring motive everywhere in the foyer and the staircases. She wondered what it was, it was shaped somewhat like a harp, but she was not sure about it.

After a while, she decided continuing her explorations near the stage, finding an open door that brought her behind the scenes. Carefully, she avoided being seen by the people that rushed behind the stage, pulling props up for the next scene. It was fantastic seeing how much work was involved at making an opera. There were the oddest stage accessorizes, like a big elephant she remembered having seen in 'Hannibal'. He was hollow on one side, so the stage men could move him around without being seen.

When Helena heard some people approaching behind her, she quickly picked up speed, walking further towards the dressing rooms. Unfortunately, the people were still moving in her direction, and so, to avoid being seen, she tried the handle of the first door to her left. It was closed, and she started panicking a little. They could not find her here; her father would have a fit! He would be so disappointed and probably never again take her to the opera with him. Quickly, she tried the next door, sighing in relief when it opened. Swiftly, she rushed inside, and closed the door, than stopped in her tracks. She was not alone in the room.

* * *

Erik had enough. He hoped that a possibility would soon open for his pupil to prove her talent. He knew that Lefevre was going to retire next month, and the new owners of the opera were definitely in for a surprise. He just had to get this woman who thought herself a singer out of the way. Over the past three years, there had been more and more 'accidents' to make it clear to her that she was not welcome here. But this woman was so full of herself, her minions always soothing her ego after an incident that she was not so easily persuaded to leave. He did not willingly want to hurt a woman, but maybe he would have to fall back upon such measures as a last resort to get rid of La Carlotta.

Tonight though, his plan consisted in exchanging the lot of her wardrobe against the exact same clothes, but in a smaller size. Carlotta took great pride in her figure, and she would certainly be appalled to find she had apparently gained weight. It was nothing but a stupid prank, he knew it, but it pleased him nonetheless to make her uncomfortable.

He had just put the last dress in the wardrobe and was on his way back to the hidden passage behind the mirror when the door opened. Too late to hide in the shadows, he whirled around, prepared to threaten the life out of the person that entered.

He opened his mouth to reprimand whoever had dared to step inside the room, but closed it without uttering a sound. For inside rushed a little girl, her blond wavy hair tied in a lavender ribbon the same colour of her dress. She could not be older than eight, and by the looks of her dress, she seemed to belong to one of the upper class members that constantly frequented the opera, but had no sense for music whatsoever.

What was the little brat doing here? Where were her parents?

Helena looked at the strange man with wide eyes. He was tall and impeccably dressed in a dark costume, a red vest and a black cape around his shoulders. He wore a white mask on the right side of his face, so she assumed he was one of the actors for the opera.

"I'm sorry Monsieur, I did not mean to disturb you," Helena said, curtsying politely. She turned to leave.

'Why is she not afraid?' Erik wondered.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her in a stern voice.

Slowly, she turned back around to face him. He noticed that she started nibbling her lower lip nervously. 'So she is afraid,' he thought smugly.

"I..." Helena thought for a moment of lying to the man, saying she was lost, but he gave her the feeling that he would be able to sense it. "I was curious to learn more about the opera. I went to the toilet..." Erik raised an eyebrow at that. "...and I did not want to return as long as La Carlotta is on stage," she told him hastily.

Surprised, the question came out of his mouth before he knew it. "Why would you not want to return? She is the prima donna of this opera house."

"She is, but she can't sing," the girl replied, almost stomping her foot on the ground to emphasise her opinion. Erik had to suppress a smile at her antics.

"And you think you are a better judge than all the others?" he teased her, although of course he shared her opinion.

"Apparently all the grownups must have gone deaf over the last years. Including my papa," she pouted. "How can they not hear how shrill her voice is?" She shook her head in disgust, then blanched. "Oh, you like her as well, do you? I did not mean to off..."

He interrupted her before she started to ramble. "No I do not like her at all. And I do everything in my power to rid the opera house of her."

He was intrigued by this child, he had to admit it. If she went to the opera as regularly as it seemed, she sure would have heard the rumours about the Opera Ghost. He wondered if she got the hint he had just given her.

"Oh, that would be wonderful to get rid of her, but how would you do this? Only the Opera Ghost makes her..." she stopped, looking at him dumbfounded.

'There, it had worked. Now surely she will run away, screaming for help.'

"Are _you_ the Opera Ghost?" she finally stuttered out, excitement lighting up her eyes.

'That did _not_ work as planned,' Erik thought, bewildered. "Some call me that," he allowed, peering at her with interest.

"Is it because of the mask you wear or because people rarely see you?" she asked him, curious.

No one had ever dared to ask such a thing directly. But she was only a child, and children thought differently.

"A bit of both, I assume," he finally answered.

She had just met the famous Opera Ghost! What a wonderful story this would be to relate to her papa, or her governess. But they probably wouldn't believe her, or if they did, they would scold her for not alerting someone immediately. 'Papa said that if that Opera Ghost was real, he had to be a very dangerous man and a...what was the word?'

"You don't look like a lantic," Helena told him, using the word she had heard her father say.

"A what?" Erik had no idea what she was talking about.

"A mad person," she explained. "You don't look like one. You seem perfectly normal to me."

"A lunatic, you mean," Erik corrected her, once he finally understood.

"Well, that's what I said," Helena replied, irritated.

'This girl is priceless,' Erik thought. 'So she thinks me normal?' He voiced the thought.

"Well of course I do, Monsieur Ghost, you look just like everybody else up there," she explained. 'Grownups really are stupid sometimes, aren't they? They don't even understand the most simple things in the world!' she thought exasperated.

"Besides the mask, of course."

Growing tired after all her exploring, Helena moved forward to sit herself on the stool in front of the vanity. Instinctively, the Phantom recoiled, fearing she might go for the mask.

Completely ignoring him, Helena continued. "You probably wear it to be more like a ghost, right?" She looked at him with her big grey eyes, waiting for an answer.

He nodded, too baffled by this strange encounter to reply.

Once seated, she looked at him merrily. "What are you going to do to get rid of Carlotta? And who will sing for her? I heard she has no understudy."

Unconsciously, Erik rubbed his forehead. My, this child was asking quite a lot of questions. But, he had to admit, she was funny, and she shared his opinion that the prima donna had to leave. So why not tell her a bit of his plans concerning the 'singer'?

"I know this opera house better than anyone else. It deserves a better singer than this woman." He was content to see that the girl nodded enthusiastically at that. "I have tutored a young chorus girl over these last few years. Her voice is excellent, and she will be a more than capable replacement." Erik's heart ached at the thought of Christine. He had always appreciated her voice, but over the years, as she grew up into a beautiful young lady, he had desperately fallen in love with her. He wanted her successful, and he wanted her to see that it was all his doing.

The girl interrupted his longing thoughts. "But how will she be able to sing, when Carlotta is always strutting around the stage making terrible noises?"

"Accidents do happen here, more often than anywhere else," he said mysteriously.

"You are not going to kill her are you, Monsieur?" she asked him, paling at the thought of an atrocious crime like that. Before Erik could answer, Helena elaborated. "Because if you do, she might come back as a real ghost to haunt you," she told him sincerely.

A chuckle escaped Erik's mouth. 'That would be horrible: the Opera Ghost haunted by the ghost of La Carlotta!' Erik shook himself from the mere thought of it.

Helena looked at him indignantly. "That is not funny, Monsieur! You don't kill people even if they are the most horrible persons in the world!"

"You are right, child," Erik conceded. "I am not going to kill her."

"Promise?" She stuck her right hand out, her little finger erected. 'What does she want?' he asked himself. When Erik did not react immediately, Helena motioned him with her other hand to come over. She raised his right hand, not noticing how astounded he was that she touched him just like that, and hooked his little finger with her own.

"Promise you are not going to kill La Carlotta," she repeated.

"I promise," Erik vowed, and when she looked at him, not sure if to believe him, he added, "by my honour as the Opera Ghost." That seemed to satisfy her, for she took back her hand, and put it on her knees.

"Then what are you going to do?" Helena probed further.

Erik took a moment before replying. He did not want the girl to know everything he had planned, he could not be certain that she was not going to tell someone about their encounter. On the other hand, who was going to believe a little girl like her?

"I will frighten her away," he finally said.

"How so?" Helena asked, curious.

"One can only endure so many mishaps," Erik said mysteriously.

Helena pouted. "Tell me, please Monsieur Ghost. I promise to keep it a secret!"

"Did you know that this is Carlotta's dressing room?" he asked her, gesturing around. The girl shook her head. "I changed all her robes into a smaller size. She is very vain, and hopefully will refuse to go onstage as long as she feels too fat."

Excitedly, Helena clapped her hands. "Oh, that is brilliant, Monsieur! I wish I could see her when she tries them on." Clearly, the thought amused her to no end. Her laughter though was cut short by a yawn.

"You should get back to your father now, lest he miss you," Erik said, seeing that she was growing tired.

Yawning again, Helena replied, "I don't think he misses me a lot as long as Carlotta sings. But you are right, I better get back now." She hopped off the stool and stood before him, holding out her hand.

Erik smiled, than bowed and kissed her hand, which in fact made her giggle. He hoped she would not get lost on her way back. "Do you know where you have to go?"

"Papa owns box 18, I know how to get there from the staircase," she informed him.

"But you don't know how to get to the staircase from here, I assume?"

She looked at him sheepishly. "Not really. I did not want to be seen backstage, so I did not really look where I went."

Erik held out is hand. "Then let me show you the way, Milady."

She broke out into a smile that had rarely been bestowed on him during his life. How could he not help her when she looked at him like that?

Helena started towards the door, and was surprised when the Opera Ghost pulled her in the opposite direction. She opened her mouth to ask him and gasped when she saw him push a hidden trigger that made the big mirror at the back of the room swing aside. A shiver ran down her spine when she set eyes on the dark corridor that was revealed behind it.

"You don't have to be afraid; I will bring you back safely." Erik comforted her.

Her eyes darted back and forth between him and the corridor. "When I soil my dress, papa will know that I did something bad. And I am afraid of rats!" she cried, agitated. She raised her hands to him, indicating that she wanted him to carry her.

'Why am I doing this? What strange power does this girl have?' he wondered. He only hoped she would not try and take off his mask.

Lifting her up, he entered the corridor, and at the first crossing, turned left and mounted the path that would bring them to a hidden door in one of the alcoves at the top of the staircase. He cherished the feeling of having the girl in his arms; she seemed to be totally at ease, cuddling close and playing with his collar with her tiny hands.

When they had arrived, he sat her down and opened the door with another hidden trigger. "I am assuming you can find your own way from here," he asked her, concerned.

"Yes, of course, it is just down there." She motioned to the right, before turning once more to face him. He stayed behind her, already half hidden in the shadowy light of the dim corridor. She curtsied, then motioned for him to come closer. When he wouldn't budge immediately, she tore at his clothes until he bowed to her height.

"Thank you Monsieur Ghost," she whispered into his ear before unsettling him by placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "I do hope you will succeed with your plans for the prima donna." She gave one of her big smiles before she took off down the corridor, her bouncing steps making her hair swing.

Paralysed by what just had transpired, he looked after her, not noticing that his hand had moved to his cheek where she had kissed him. Shaking off his stupor, but still a very wondrous expression on his face, he shut the door and walked back to his lair.

A few weeks later, Helena sat with her father and her governess in box 18, listening to the new soprano, Christine Daaé. She had an exceptional voice, and Helena smiled, thinking back at her encounter with the Opera Ghost. She had never told anyone what had transpired that night; her father had not even noticed her long absence, such enthralled was he with La Carlotta.

And now was the first night of the new singer. Her governess had told her that during rehearsals, a backdrop apparently had fallen down directly behind Carlotta. Fearing that the Opera Ghost now was after her life, she had refused to go back on stage. A chorus girl had finally been allowed to take her place, and surprised everyone with her outstanding performance.

Helena let her gaze sweep around the room. Everyone was taken by the talent of the young woman, all the eyes fixed on stage. Looking up at the chandelier, she saw movement up in the belfry. Sliding closer to the banister, she craned her head back to take a closer look. There it was again, a white flash in the dark. She smiled, than gasped when her governess pulled her back and told her to behave.

The night of Don Juan Triumphant, Helena stayed at home, for her father was out of town. She never learned that the Opera Ghost had appeared on stage, and had been unmasked by his pupil, kidnapping her in revenge. For her, the Opera Ghost was simply a friendly man with an odd taste for disguises.

_A/N: My goddaughter inspired me to this oneshot. It's just a little story I had to get out of my system. If you like it, please leave a review!_


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